Mapping the Skies
by toirneachskjoldur
Summary: Before Steve became a national hero and symbol of America, he lived a simple life in Brooklyn. Well, as simple as it gets. Until a hammer fell from the sky, and everything went to hell... This is a story where everything began. StevexThor CanonRewrite
1. Prologue

AN: This fanfic is inspired by Ephemeral Everlast's Please, Shake Me. If you have not checked it out, you can... after reading my story :) Thank you for stopping by and giving this story a chance. I may not be as eloquent and descriptive as Ephemeral, but thank you anyway.

Warning: Slash ThunderShield fic. No ThunderShield moment... yet.

Forever and Always

He awoke to the sound of the alarm clock Tony had jokingly given him last year on his 95th birthday. It was fashioned to look like his shield, with red, white and blue rings. The star however, was made of glass to show the two hands of the clock. Even though Steve never needed it, he always makes sure it was placed near him. A remembrance of sorts, a symbol of lost time. The short hand was pointing to its south, the long one to the north. Six in the morning. It was time.

As he silenced the alarm, he noticed the sun's rays pilfering through the room, warming it up. Steve had forgotten to close the balcony doors last night, again. It wasn't advisable since he is now marked for death and the balcony door could become an entry way for any one to assassinate him. But he didn't care; he stopped caring for his own safety a long time ago.

Steve wanted to bury himself in the sheets again. Maybe even try to choke himself with the pillows, so that he can die and go to the Heaven his religion has always promised. But he wasn't a good man, so he is now considering Hell. Anywhere would be good, but not here. Not in Asgard.

Asgard, the land of the Norse gods. He never believed that such a place existed in this universe before. It was just a figment of imagination, a dream land of sorts. When he was given the evidence that Asgard really does exist, he let himself envision that this might be the place where he can be free. Free to be himself and free to love.

But Asgard never gave him anything but pain and suffering.

True, he was treated well. Physically, at least. It was a grandiose room, the one he's staying in now. The walls were lavished in gold and etched with symbols, runes to protect anyone staying inside. Floor panels are well polished and wrapped in gold. Even the bed was embedded with rubies and diamonds, with the blankets and pillows were spun with the softest white fabric Steve has ever felt. The drapes also seem to be spun with gold, for they shimmer under the rays of the sun.

But he doesn't care of any of that. All he wants is to get out of the palace, and go back to Earth. To the normalcy: trying to live in the modern world, battling with the Avengers. However, he can't. Earth, or Midgard to the Asgardians, was not a safe place for Captain America. Not anymore. Not after the reign of Loki, who really does want to kill him.

It angers him that he, Captain America, became a liability all because of love. All the tales he read a long time ago said love strengthens you, that it makes you do things you did not imagine you can. Apparently, it doesn't apply to him. So here he was now in Asgard, taken care of (or more likely imprisoned), for only Asgard could protect him. However he is not an Asgardian by blood, so he needs to be affiliated with someone who is.

Steve never thought that being _affiliated_ could equate to marriage.

Marriage. A word so foreign to Steve's concept it might have been Norse. A ritual that binds two people forever, professing love and loyalty to one another. It could have made him happy, if he was marrying the one that he loves. However, the one that he loves doesn't love him anymore.

Thor doesn't care about him.

The thought tore through Steve's heart like it was just yesterday. When Thor forced him out of Asgard because his love faded and was gone. That he was marrying Sif, a woman. Who can give him children, heirs for the throne. Back in Midgard, Thor also professed his love to Jane Foster, right in front of his eyes.

How could Steve compete with two women? He might be Captain America, a strong and famous hero and savior, respected member of the Avengers. Yet he was a man; he cannot give birth. And he can't give what Thor wants. So he was cast aside and forgotten. Rubbish. A toy that lost its use.

There wasn't anywhere that Thor belongs to him. He should accept that. He should have accepted that a long time ago. He left his balcony doors open, hoping that the hammer-wielding god would come to him at night and save Steve. To profess his undying love all over again. He didn't, and he never will.

For how will Thor stop the wedding he initiated in the first place?

A tear escaped from his sapphire eyes, but he should not feel remorse. It was past time to move on and try to forget Thor. Even if his heavy heart and stupid mind says otherwise.

The large doors of his room suddenly opened, making him wipe his eyes hastily. He counted four, six, twelve servants bringing in his dress. He was a man, yet his wedding attire really does look like a dress. The tailor said that it was just a cloak, underneath it was a layer of tunics, loose trousers and brown leather shoes. White was in abundance, with gold stitches resembling symbols the Captain has unheard of, its cloth flowing to the floor. He sighed and got up from the bed. It was beatiful, even he could not deny that.

After he was bathed by his attendants (against his very wishes) and fitted into the inner part of the attire, his eyes caught the dark eyes of Logan, casually leaning on against a wall. He was already dressed for the wedding, resembling a knight, complete with the silver armor and white fur-lined cloak. But the ex-soldier and mutant never fails to look like someone fresh from the wilds, with his ever-present stubble, his stance like a graceful cat.

"My lord, it is time," Logan spoke with such softness Steve was caught in surprise. Gentle wasn't a word to describe the man who was infamously known as Wolverine, as well as morose. Despite their almost half a century of friendship, he never saw him like this: sad, forlorn.

Steve let out a short, mirthless laugh, trying to enliven his friend. "Stop calling me that." Logan hastily went to his side and offered a hand, which earned him a glare from the Captain. "I can walk without assistance."

Logan nodded, and smiled a little. "You will now be a part of the royal family of Asgard, my lord."

Steve looked at him weirdly. "Why are you being so formal to me? It doesn't mean that I am marrying Lord Farlan, our friendship will change. You will always be my friend Logan." Logan winced a little at the word friend, but Steven didn't notice it. "Besides, you must be happy for me. I am getting married, remember? Weddings are supposed to be joyous celebrations. Why are you sad?"

"Unlike you, I cannot pretend that I am alright when in fact, I'm not," Logan's voice was barely a whisper, but it felt like a resounding shout to Steve. "You are not happy. Why should I be happy for your misery?"

Steve felt a lump rising in his throat. He is eyes became like glass, threatening to shatter his facade.

Steve requested the servants to leave them alone for a while. After the doors slid shut, Steve let it all go. Logan gathered him to his arms, and he wept. Steve wept and it felt like a gushing river released from the confines of the dam. All the pain, suffering, heartache, he let it all go on Logan's shoulders.

"I wish I never met him Logan," Steve whimpered against an armored shoulder. "I wish I never loved him." A show of weakness is not recommended to a soldier but at this moment, no one could chastise Steve for crying. Not after what he's been through. Logan's presence was reassuring, making Steve hope that someday this would be all but a distant memory.

Steve hopes that day would come soon.

*.*.*

AN: And yeah, in medias res. So what do you think? Comments and criticisms are always welcome.


	2. Chapter 1

1: Sparks Fly

1941, Brooklyn, New York

He should have never picked up that hammer. He should have known it was trouble waiting to be courted. It was not as if Steve was a stranger in courting trouble. In fact, they were best friends long before he tried to court her. However, a relationship that began from best friends to lovers does not always equate a good relationship.

The day he picked up the hammer was a normal day, to say at least. It was the last days of autumn and the leaves were already golden and falling to the earth, with chilling hints of the nearing winter coming by. Steve shivered, pulling the cream jacket against his frail body as he traipsed through the streets of Brooklyn. Just a couple more blocks, and he was already going to be there. But before he could even be at one block before the cinema, he was caught by a group of other boys in the neighborhood, hitting an old man. He was already on the ground, his clothing in tatters and his body in a far worse situation. There were other people passing by, but they were too busy to care.

Seeing this injustice, he could not stop himself from shouting, "Hey! Stop it!"

It caught their attention, alright. But because of the distraction, the old man had the chance to run. Steve also did, but he rooted himself in place as the boys went nearer to him. He did not know why; maybe because of fear that now he is frozen in place or he is just a fool to think that he could face them all.

Insults were hurled at first, calling him names that were already familiar to him: weakling, fag, lim-wristed and all the others attributed to his slight figure. Saying how dare he to call them when he can not even protect himself from them.

So he fought back, or tried to, but always fights back. Even if he is outnumbered and outgunned. There is no question in his soul. Even if he was already on the ground, bleeding, kicked, bruised and heavily injured, he can't run. He wouldn't run. Not because he believes running is a weakness, but not giving them the satisfaction that he ran due to lack of courage. Steve refuses to be humiliated that way. He may have been injured on the outside, but inside he knew he could survive this. This was nothing. Steve was just thankful the old man got away in time.

Too bad he can't get away this time.

"Too bad for you, sissy boy!" the boys jeered and walked away proudly, as if what they have done was an accomplishment.

It was always like this. As the boys finished beating him up, Steve could not even move his legs. He knew his face was a lost cause, his extremities felt swollen and blood was waterfall from his nose. As he tried to stand up, using the brick wall as a leverage, he knew that he could not let Bucky see him like this. Going to the cinema was not an option now. At least, he saved himself from the humiliation of entering it looking fresh from a fight he clearly lost.

*.*.*

Steve knew it was a futile attempt to hide what happened to him. But of all the things that could happen, it was Bucky himself who was waiting inside of their apartment. When the older man saw his situation he immediately put himself to work. Hauling Steve over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes, he set him down on the couch. Cursing the whole time while looking for their first aid kit, Steve noticed he was wearing his nice clothes. He was just about to ask why when Bucky started to talk.

"Steven Grant Rogers," Bucky began, clearly dipleased at the situation, dabbing disinfectant at Steve's wounds. "What the hell were you doing out there? You-"

Steve flinched. When Bucky uses his full name, he knew he was in deep trouble. "I wanted to go to the cinema."

"Cinema?" Bucky snapped. "Why?"

Before Steve could open his mouth to answer, Bucky already knew. "To see the war picture. Again."

The younger man evaded his eyes. "I'm already twenty-one years of age Bucky. I wanted to see our fellowmen's efforts in war. I want-"

"To join the military," Bucky completed his sentence. "Even after forty-five rejections, few punches pulled and a ton of insults thrown at you, you still want to join the one organization all the others want to escape. Why Steven? Do you really want to die?"

"I want to serve this country, Buck," was Steve's simple answer. "Just like what Father did."

Bucky stared at him for a while, then shook his head. "And you want to follow him to the grave."

"No, I don't Bucky," Steve gritted his teeth. Why is it he always tries to dissuade him from joining? Steven mught be physically weak, but he knew in his heart he can do it. He's willing to try.

Steve stood up from the threadbare couch.

"Steve, where are you going? I'm not done-" Bucky protested, but Steve interrupted him again.

"James Buchanan Barnes, I just want to rest." Bucky was not the only one who can use a full name. "Thanks."

*.*.*

Bucky never understood Steve's fascination with the military. Until now.

When they were still children, Steve always goes out of his way to help others. Being late for class by feeding stray animals, giving coin to beggars on the street, even trying to break out fights and scufflles. When his parents died and he was adopted by the Barneses, he never ceased being a great kid. Even though he always goes home with black eye or some hellacious bruise almost everyday after school, Bucky knew deep down he was a good person. He had a physical disadvantage, yes, along with all the other illnesses that made him shorter and thinner than a man of his age, but he had a fire in him. A fire no one was able to put out.

The war came, and his Father had to serve the country. Bucky promised him he would take care of both his mother and Steve while he was gone. Not a year after that, they received a black outlined letter with their father's dog tag. After a few days, their mother died of a heart failure.

Bucky never felt so lost. At the age of 18, he lost both of his parents like Steve did. The inheritance both of their parents left were only enough to last them a few years so both of them had to work, no matter how odd the jobs were. He got the chance to be a waiter at a nearby diner in their neighborhood, but Steve didn't have much luck. His asthma alone was already a hindrance in finding a decent occupation, add up his scarlet fever and another array of diseases, he was not even fit to deliver newspapers.

Two years later, they were still struggling, with the world so it seems. The war between the nations was still waging on, and America needs more troops. Steven gave him an idea after proclaiming he wants to join the war. Of course, Bucky was against the idea of Steven joining the war. But he didn't say anything about himself.

He promised himself that he would take care of the younger man. He would keep Steve safe, no matter what happens. Even if he knew Steve would hate him if he knew Bucky got conscripted yesterday. Bucky may not be able to protect him from the Brooklyn bullies anymore, but he can shield him from the horrors of the war.

He knew he had to tell Steve. Soon.

*.*.*

"Steve, I need to talk to you."

Steve's hands trembled on his cup of coffee as he heard the ominous words. Those words do not bring a positive air. "Buck, if this is about what happened yesterday, I-" Steve started to ramble, but Bucky laid a hand on his shoulder.

"No, no it isn't," Bucky said, his tone calming, soothing. "I need to tell you something."

Steve let out a little sigh as took a bite of a stale muffin. "What is it about?"

"I got conscripted last Tuesday."

The younger man choked on the muffin. "What?!"

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell-"

Steve shook his head as he interrupted the other man's apologies and smiled widely . "No, no need to apologize. In fact, I must congratulate you big brother. Now someone can help me with my applications!"

The blond man was so busy being happy he didn't notice Bucky's face growing more serious and somber. "Steve, I would not help you."

With those words, Steve's smile withered. He looked pointedly at his brother. "What? Why?"

The older man fell silent, despondent, avoiding Steve's eyes. The reason dawned on him. "You think I'm not strong enough. That I cannot survive the military life because of my sicknesses."

"Look Steve I..." Bucky was trying to placate the situation. "I just want to protect you."

But I don't need protection, Steve wanted to scream. I can protect myself! However, he stayed silent. A show of respect to the man who took care of him for so long. The man he loved. As a brother of course. What else could it be?

"I need some air," Steve whispered, hastily got out of his chair and ran. Before Bucky could even protest, he was already outside of their apartment.

Walking down the stairs was already taxing to Steve's weak body, let alone running while still having injuries. He limped to the outside, but Bucky's admission hurts more than any injury he ever faced. The only person he thought could lift him up, to support him and help him to achieve his dreams, did not want to.

But no, he was not going to cry. Not in the middle of the street. He might look like a child, but was already twenty-one years of age. He was already past the age of maturity, and he will not let his respect for himself diminish. All he wanted now was a little bit of comfort. Maybe a nice cup of hot chocolate. Which he can get from a nice cafe just across the street. Maybe it can lift him up a little.

Steve was already in the middle of the street when when he felt a shift in his surroundings. The smell of car exhaust and city bustle was replaced with the scent akin to the rain after it was finished crying itself to the earth. Like pure natural air, with the hint of humidity and moisture. When he looked up to the sky, the normal blue skyline of Brooklyn was filled with clouds converging into a hurricane of black and green.

All the other people were screaming, running as fast as possible away from the threat. Cars abandoned, businesses forgotten, commotion ensues. But Steven stood transfixed. Like the storm was beckoning him, tempting him, pulling him. And he cannot resist.

"Steven! We need to go now!"

It was Bucky, but he could barely hear him because of the screeching winds. Closer and closer it comes. Steve was surprised he was not swept away yet, because all the other objects were already responding to the call of the winds, lifting them slowly to its center above.

Steve was mesmerised. His blue eyes were filled with wonder as the sky changed again, bit by bit, until it was all back to normal again. Cars, leaves and all other collection of things were plummeting from the sky, back to the earth. He thought the phenomenon was already finished, when another thing came crashing down fast. Like a meteor from the heavens, pulled down by the earth.

It was steadily approaching his position, but Steve was unfazed. No matter how threatening it might be, Steve waited.

The object landed on his feet with a loud crash, and a wall of dust exploded around the man.

"STEVEN!"

As the smoke cleared, a hole was formed around the pavement. It destroyed everything within a diameter as big as the base of the Statue of Liberty. Only one spot was left untouched, elevated from the bottom part of the crater with a flimsy tower of ground. It held Steven, and what looked like a hammer, trapped on the ground head first.

Steve never saw something so beautiful in his life. Not even the Aston-Martin he was eyeing days ago could not compare to the majesty of the object right in front him. He knelt down and observed the hammer. There were strange and unfamiliar markings on the silver head. The handle was ridged like a screw, and there was a leather strap attached to the end. It was bigger than the ordinary hammer, and looked mighty heavy. Steve was not even sure if Bucky can lift it, let alone his puny self.

But he could not afford not to touch.

"Steven! Don't-"

Steve gripped the handle. He felt electrified, like a thousand volts of energy was pulsing in his veins. It was exhilirating and frightening at the same time. He knew he may fail in lifting the hammer, but he needed to try. His gut was telling him he needed to try, just to prove to Bucky that he was strong. That he can do this.

Alarms were blaring at the distance, but Steve paid them no heed. He focused on the hammer, and lifted it up with both hands.

He thought it might be an outrageous feat, but the hammer was released from its confines, without almost any effort. Steve gasped in delight, that yes for the first time in his life, he can actually lift something...

Until the hammer lifted him to sky.

"BUCKY!"

His cries of elation was hastily replaced with screams of fear, as he ascended up and up and up...


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

2:

At some point of the flight Steve might have been unconscious, for when he woke up the scenery was unfamiliar. Instead of the busy streets of Brooklyn, he was on a snowy countryside. The cold was seeping through his threadbare coat, a gift from Bucky a few years back. He pushed the thought out of his head as he looked at his surroundings.

Mounds and mounds of snow filled his eyes. He was not unfamiliar with the frost from the heavens, but not this much. And not in the countryside for that matter. He was a city boy through and through, born, bred and raised. He was told tales of the northern lands and the perils of travelling through such, but never in his wildest dreams he would be in one.

At this point, he must admit it to himself. He was afraid, afraid of what is going to happen to him now. No more Bucky to protect him, the dangerous familiarity of the city gone. He could only cling to his God, whom he prayed to several times already. Steve wanted to hit himself; why did he even picked up the hammer in the first place?

Then it occured to him the hammer was not in his hands.

He knelt to the snow covered land, checking whether the cursed object was there right beside his landing point. He was not disappointed. It was lying behind him, waiting. Hoping.

If given the chance, Steve would never hold the hammer ever again. But since he was in a foreign land and the tool was his only defense against the forces of nature, better get it to use. He lifted it up, half-afraid it would react again and send him flying to somewhere else. Hopefully, back home. It didn't however, he just felt a silent hum.

Steve was just hoping he would not use it to bludgeon someone. Or something. Or anyone.

After an hour of nonstop walking, and Steve was ready to give up. He was just thankful he didn't meet a wolf or bear. He might have a crazy hammer, but without it he was just a scrawny young man.

As he walked on, he noticed there was no trace of the existence of life around here. All that ever grazed his eyes were snow, dead trees, more snow and random boulders and rocks. His leather shoes were not made for this kind of environment, and neither was he. Steve was already shivering from the intense temperature, but he cannot give up. Not yet while there is still life in his system.

But his breath might soon run out. Steve was alarmed by the tighness in his chest. He was hoping it was not what he thought it is, but after such a strenuous activity, it was unmistakable. He was wheezing and chasing after the precious air his lungs were rejecting. The hammer was of no help, as it was bearing him down with its weight, no matter how light it felt in his hands.

His legs gave out first, then his whole system followed. And as his body fell to the to the frost-covered ground, he regretted picking up the cursed hammer once more.

*.*.*

The first thing he noticed and felt when he came about was he was in a bed. A not so comfortable one, but still a gratitude to have. The air was warm, a bit toasty. A fire was nearby, and he could hear the crackling of the wood as it disintegrates to the flame. It was comforting, to say at least.

But he was still wary. He refused to open his eyes for the fear that this a little bit of heaven he was in would shatter. His ever imaginative mind was conjuring images of him being skinned, cooked and eaten by whoever owns this place. He wanted the hammer to be in his hands by now, maybe for just the illusion of having the upper hand.

"Stop pretending you are in slumber, mortal. I can hear you twitching in my bed."

The voice belonged to a man; it was gruff, rough and growly. A thunder speaking words. After a few creaking footsteps, Steve felt a presence beside the bed, probably looming above him. He slowly opened his eyes.

He was right, the man was hoveing over him. He was blond like Steve, only darker, and he wore it longer than most men would prefer. It was curtaining his regal face, but those eyes were most startling of all. It was blue like Steve's, but with more intensity. A deeper hue as well than Steve's baby blues. And his body, Steve was sure he was not even past the man's broad shoulders. He was built like a brick house.

"Who are you?" he croaked.

The man scoffed. "You do not know my name, foolish mortal? I never expected such impunity amongst you. There was a time you revered my name, respected it, feared its power. And now you dare say right to my face that you do not know of me?!"

He was bordering on shouting now, and Steve wanted to shake in fear. He doesn't know what the man was talking about, nor did he care. One thing was clear in his mind, however: he would never let anyone scare him, not even a big blond bully. So he stayed, staring back at the intense sapphire orbs and bolted out of the bed. The bigger man was bigger and stronger sure, but Steve was quick enough to dodge his grab.

Steve saw the hammer lying at the top of a fireplace, and ran to it. But before he could even make a few paces, a large hand grabbed him by the scruffs. Like a cat caught snatching the fish, he was held facing the other man with his feet dangling helplessly off the ground.

"Listen to me, puny little mortal," the other blond man growled. "I am Thor, son of Odin. And that," he pointed to the weapon with his other hand, "is my hammer."

*.*.*


	4. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

3:

Hiking has always been one of Jim's greatest loves. Even when he was still young, his father would take him to the Canadian mountains to appreciate the scenery. Sometimes they hunt some game, a rabbit or a deer. There were some instances of bears, but he never really liked hunting them. That was until his claws protruded out of his hand and released felt a rage so powerful he cannot even remember clearly what happened during that fateful day. When he woke up, he was already in the middle of the woods with dried blood splattered on his hands. All he remembered was his first name, some snippets of past memories, and blurred but overwhelmingly familiar faces. Naked except for the undergarments he had, suprisingly Jim never felt the cold. He discovered his other abilities only a few days later, when he was attacked by a polar bear. His eyesight and hearing drastically improved; he can already see the smallest objects and the hear the slightest sounds. The bone-like appendages that stuck out of his knuckles were effective in cutting down anything in his path. Using these abilities, he survived the frigid winters and the dangerous forest of the mountain.

It has been a long time since he last saw another person. Most of the time, it's a hiker or a hunter or someone just lost in the woods. Hell, it could be anyone, and it depends on the person whether Jim would cut him or her to pieces or be left alone in the woods. James never expected for the next human being he'll ever see will be a blond boy pulled by flying hammer across the sky. At first, he thought it was a shooting star of some kind. When stared again, his overly sensitive ears and cat-like eyesight registered a small blond boy screaming for his life.

Jim never believed in aliens. Sure, as far as he could remember they caught his attention when he was a child; what kind of kid who would not be fascinated by other worlds aside from ours? But the kid was certainly looked like a human, not the monsters every one else envisioned. His curiosity got a hold of him. He wanted to know what was happening.

He followed the blond boy's trajectory through the snowy woods, and he landed a good few miles from Jim's makeshift cabin. It was gentle landing and Jim knew the kid was unharmed. Jim's instinct was telling him the he was not harmful, and by his scent clearly he is human. James wanted to approach, but another blond man was already there first. A bigger blond man, wearing a really tight sort of clothing, which reminded him of the standard ballet dress. Jim thought they were effeminate when men wore them, but the man he was observing now wore the garment with finesse and undeniable masculinity. How he knew anything about a ballet dress, he doesn't -or maybe never will- know.

The bigger blond was perfectly hidden from view, albeit closer than Jim's position. He knew the forest like the back of his hand, circled around the snowy wood for hundreds of times yet he never knew there was another another person inhabiting the area. James immediately assessed both of the men to see if they were a threat or not. The smaller blond man was of no danger, but the hammer was in question. The bigger one however, was a sure threat and probably would engage in a fight if confronted. It appears that the boy doesn't know the existence of the other man, as picked up the hammer and started to walk. The bigger man followed quietly.

Well, this is interesting. However, Jim has questions in his mind and he wants answers. What are they doing here? Who are they?

For now, it is the safest option to follow carefully, to know the full situation. He decided to increase his distance from the two blonds, but still he trained his eyes on them.

After two hours of nonstop walking, he could faintly hear the faltering breath of the boy. The bigger blondie however, did not even looked tired. His breathing was still even, and his steps still strong, and looking unbothered by the cold. A warrior, Jim was sure of it. Highly dangerous. But why was he following the boy? And why was Jim following them both?

Before he could even muse to himself about the answers, the boy collapsed to the snowy ground. His instinct told him to run and get the boy to safety, but the Blondie beat him up to it. He carried the smaller person like he weighed nothing, but Jim noticed the hammer was still dangling on the boy's hands, like it didn't want to let go. And the man did not even touch the hammer, although he also noticed the man was glaring at the hammer intently.

Jim was reduced to following again the bigger man's footsteps as they both treaded the snowy mountains. There were times the man looked back, assessing the area, but Jim was sure he was not caught. Ten years of living here in the mountains has improved his hiding skills.

Yes, this is going to be interesting.


	5. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

4:

Staring at those seemingly endless blue eyes seems to have addled Steve's brain, not to mention the fact about what he said. This big guy owned the hammer? The cursed hammer which brought Steve to the middle of nowhere to die? Now it just delivered Steve to its really angry owner. How could life be so unfortunate?

"What are you talking about?!" Steve tried his best to hide the stutter and face his captor indignantly. He stared back at the stormy blue eyes mirroring his own.

The response probably made the bigger man angrier than ever before, because in retaliation he threw Steve's frail body to the nearest wall. Its impact shook the smaller man's core. Pain erupted all over his freshly injured body but he stifled his shout. It would have been a failed attempt anyway because a rough hand immediately enclosed his throat. The man was fast for his stature, he gave him that.

Precious air was becoming a rare commodity for his constricted passageways. True fear was already running through his veins, and his face was burning. Now he was really going to die.

"Oh mortal," the man-Thor, as he should really address the man, at least before his timely end- whispered on his ears. It tickled and he might have laughed if the situation was not serious and his life was not on the line. " You should not have challenged my patience. Before you meet Hel in the darker realms however, answer my question first."

A weak "What?" was all Steve could manage. God, it was getting harder and harder to breathe!

"Who gave you my hammer?" Thor gritted through his teeth. "Answer me honestly mortal, and you shall not suffer a slow painful death."

Steve slightly shivered and it caused the man to smirk. Damn, now he's thinking I'm quaking in fear already, a total weakling. It hurt Steve's pride more than his injured body. So instead of giving the man that kind of satisfaction, he stared back in a move of defiance. "I won't," the man from Brooklyn answered simply.

Thor's glare intensified, if that was possible. Their faces were only a couple of inches apart, and Steve could feel the other man's warm breath against his face. "Then suffer, mortal. Feel the rage of the mighty Thor!"

Steve slowly closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was ready to face anything this man might dish out. Maybe in Heaven he would find his parents waiting for him, his foster father and mother smiling at his arrival, the angels singing of his defeat, and St. Paul ready to write his judgment.

He felt the vibration in the air as the man poised to strike. Waiting for the death blow seemed to slow down the time. It was as if everything he had done for the past twenty-one years of his life were flashing right before his eyes. Receiving his first punch in the face when he was seven, meeting Bucky for the first time when he was nine and Buck was about to be ten, entering the local high school at twelve, the death of his biological parents, being adopted by the Barneses, the arts classes he enjoyed before he had to drop out because of the Great Depression, living in the fear of the war, dreaming of joining the ranks of glory, Bucky's parents dying, living in the shabby apartment, Bucky's worsening cooking skills, winter nights they had to sleep together in order to preserve the warmth, days so scorching Bucky was surprised Steve was still as pale as he was, bucky treating his wounds after a fight, Bucky coming hope late with scrapes and fight bites on his knuckles. Bucky, Bucky Bucky... Thinking of his older brother sometimes gave a warmth he could never understand.

All of these ran through his head, episodes of memories he will always appreciate, even the bad ones, because they made him who he was today.

I'm sorry, Buck. I wish I could see you again...

Just as when he ready to breath his last, a sudden thud disturbed his reverie. The hold on his neck loosened. Before he could open his eyes, he was already falling to the ground. With an unmanly oof, he landed on his ass. When he regained his vision, what he saw amazed and scared him all at the same time.

The big blond man was down on the ground unconscious, a puddle of red pooling behind his blond hair and staining the floor. Beside his body was the hammer, its metal head specked with blood.

Oh dear God.

*.*.*

Bad luck was again on Steve's side, for when he was about to run outside the snow started to fall down. With winds strong enough to carry away, Steve was even apprehensive to go out of the wood cabin. The fireplace on the corner was running out of warmth. Steve tried to fit his little frail body on the corner, wrapping himself up the piece of fur that served as the bed's comforter.

Thor on the other hand was still down on the floor. Steve counted the time by the seconds, and by estimation the crazy man was out for an hour. He was a little afraid that Thor might never wake up. Even if the stronger man tried to kill him, Steve did not want to hurt anyone. It was against everything he was taught baack when his real parents were alive. Love your enemies Jesus said, and that was the motto he lived by.

The little blond man was on the verge of tears. He knew he must survive this. He believes he isn't meant to die this way, not yet, not in the middle of a snowy nowhere. He just hoped the little resistance his body has will make it work. Breathing slowly, he tries to walk up again. After recovering from the terror of a near-death experience, Steve used his remaining adrenaline to run outside but of course the snow impeded his escape. He had to crawl to the fireplace on the other side of the room after losing his energy. He can't sleep, because anytime the crazy man would wake up and start rampaging again. At least if he ultimately dies he is fully aware of it.

Steve needed the hour to recover himself and wait for the storm to pass, and he used the hour to observe the cabin. The cabin was bare with a makeshift bed on the center, wooden walls with broken glass windows. The door was made of some hardwood, and fireplace looked like it belonged there long before the other panelling did. Probably abandoned, he surmised, and this man repaired everything else. Huh, a builder. It makes sense because he claims to own the flying hammer.

Speaking of that cursed tool, he also left it on beside the body of the unconscious blond man. He doesn't have the heart to pick it up. Bad things happen when he lifts it. Probably it is cursed, and only the rightful owner could lift it properly. But why didn't the man just use the hammer to pummel him to death instead of using his hands? And why did the hammer protect him?

During the hour of silence, Steve tried to think this was all just a dream. An elaborate illusion made by his mind. That he's going to wake up any time soon, smelling the coffee and burnt toast Bucky occasionally makes. Back to the streets of Brooklyn, trying to survive another day, hearing the horrors of the war and recovering from the fall of the economy. Steve could take the poverty, but this? A crazy man with an even crazier hammer in the middle of the endless snowy forest? He'd rather eat a ton of Bucky's black toast in the middle of a wartorn society.

He did not even notice the man was already up.

The man was growling even more fiercely than before, vibrating in rage. Like a bear ready to maul him. Like an angel ready to serve the judgment. "What have you done?!"

Steve as almost choked by his ever present fear, but he choked it down. "What?" Darn it, he must improve his vocabulary other than speaking "what?"

Thor-should he really call him by his name?-shook his head at himself. "Nay, it does not matter. I will just have to end your miserable existence." He bent down and reached for the hammer.

This is it, Steve's funeral. But this time, he will make sure that his eyes are open.

As the blond man circled his palms at the handle, Steve held his breath. And then stood up, still staring at the man's form, gulping what could be as his final final breath. HE saw the muscles of the man flex, and tried to pull the hammer from the ground.

It didn't budge. He pulled again, but the hammer did not even lift an inch. The man used his two hands instead, but still the hammer refused to move. The look of shock was evident on the man's face, then rage inhabited it once more. His steely blue glares were back on Steve.

Steve backed himself against the wall. Here we go again, another rampaging rage.

"YOU!"

Steve flinched, but refused to break the gaze. "Look, sir. Whoever you are, please be calm and reasonable-"

"Calm? Reasonable?" Thor snarled the words, like they were derogatory. "How could I be calm and reasonable when Mjolnir chose a boy over me?!"

M- what? "The hammer is called what?"

"MJOLNIR!" the blonde man screamed. "The great Uru hammer, one of the strongest weapons in this universe. And it is supposed to be mine! How can you wield it? HOW?!"

Steven did not understand half of what the raging man was saying. Myolnir? Uru? And what about the strongest weapon in the universe? What was this man talking about?

"Sir, mister, whoever you are I am sorry that I possessed you property-"

"SORRY?!"

"-but it is not my fault that it fell out of the sky and destroyed a bit of my city." It surprised Steve that he still sounded calm, even after all that happened. His heart might be hammering inside of him (hammering, yeah right) but he quelled the fear to show on the surface. He must be vigilant, for anything can happen from now on.

Steve's statement gave the man a pause, then howled, "I. DO NOT. CARE. ABOUT. YOUR USELESS. APOLOGY!" and charged to Steve.

It might have been funny if Steve was not about to die. Again.

Steve used his height and weight disadvantage to to dodge the bigger man's attack. He heard him collide against the wall and his animalistic growl. The smaller man jumped clumsily on the bed and scambled up to get to the hammer. He was just about to be reached by Thor's hand when Steve's nimble fingers grabbed the hammer and lifted it like it was nothing. He pointed it at Thor, who was still surprised by Steve's feat, so surprised he could not even move. Does Steve really look that weak?

"Look, sir," Steve gasped. "I may look like an ordinary kid but I am already an adult. And I also have this-what did you say- one of the most powerful weapons in the universe. So please before we destroy this cabin..."

Thor's stance was wary, but at least he was listening. Or at least Steve hoped so.

"Explain."

*.*.*

AN: Thank you for reading :D


	6. Chapter 5

AN: Hey, thank you for stopping by! Sorry if I am a bit of a snob, but really I reply to comments. :) It's just that my schedule is a bit hectic so I forget ^_^V  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

5:

In a different point view, Steve would find their arrangement utterly ridiculous bordering on comedic.

Imagine this: a little boy holding an absurdly large hammer against the rightfully larger, meaner, stronger and darker blonde owner of the said hammer. If this was a show, Steve would have laughed. It was something so surreal Steve swore he was still dreaming if not for the sweat running on his back, totally contradicting the harsh climate he was in now. He was breathing heavily, and Steve wished-oh God, please- that this was not another asthma attack. Steve was so going to be dead now, in his third short meaningless life. Wow, a third life. Who could have guessed he would live long enough?

"You do not deserve any explanation, mortal," Thor sneered. "You should only know that after this I will make it my personal goal and satisfaction to see you gutted and bleeding right before my eyes."

Steve let out a short exasperated breath. "Then before you try to end me, I deserve to know why I'm about to get killed! I'm not some game you hunt on open season!"

The bigger man stepped forward, stance still ready to pounce. Steve took the automatic step back. All of his concentration was being used up to make sure the hammer was not shaking even slightly. He knew that, based on some of the movies he and Bucky watched, that a trembling hand is a sign of fear and nervousness. Therefore it is an indication that you are weak, that you can be easily thwarted and defeated.

Well, Steve was not going to be that man. He remained his eye contact with Thor.

The smaller man could feel the tension thickening between them; the rage, fear, and silence all convalescing in the air, creating an barely breathable atmosphere. Every second that passes seemed longer with Steve's senses. The eyes that reflected his own were still full of pent-up rage, ready to be released again any minute from now. Why was the man so angry anyway? It wasn't Steve fault that the hammer chose him, although the reason why was still not given to him. Even though he is steadily weakening, he could feel the blood being pumped rapidly inside his system, anticipation on the move, ready to throw the hammer anytime the man would make his own move. Kill or be killed.

As Steve continued to carry the hammer, he could feel little electric currents flowing through his arms and all over his body, egging him on, rising his anger, feeding his blood lust. Then it dawned in him. He was not this, this man who would fight with arms and feet. The man who makes the first move, the first punch, the first kick. It can't be him. He did not want to hurt anyone, even if he could. If he could resolve this without any physical injury, then it would be the better option. More violence would not give him the answers that he needs, so maybe another option would work. The other man doesn't understand that, it seems.

Realizing that neither of them would not stand down, Steve put down the hammer. The other man raised his brows, but still did not change his stance. "That was a foolish move, mortal. Releasing your one true chance against me? Foolish indeed."

Steve shook his head. "There will be no more bloodshed. I just want to know what are you doing here and what you want. If you want to kill me, fine but at least tell me why all of this is happening to me." He could see the other man taken aback a little by his words.

"You will... give up your life... for an explanation?" The man was perturbed beyond words.

"No, I would not give up my life. In fact I would still fight for it. But if I would die right at this moment, at least give me some sort of... some sort of peace." Steve was adamant, he would get his answers. If he dies today, at least in his heart he knew he made a stand. Letting go of the hammer might not be the brightest decision, but Steve believed it was for the best. It was foolish enough to think he could use the hammer against its owner.

Steve saw the other blonde ponder for a bit. "I agree to your terms. However, after I tell thee all that I know, you will die by my hands."

The smaller man gulped, fear trying to block his throat, but still he replied. "No. I'll fight you."

Thor laughed, a booming degrading bone-chilling laugh. "You may have the power over my hammer for now, little mortal. However, it is the only advantage you have," he then shrugged, his looks still mocking Steve. "All right I agree, but I also want my answers."

Steve nodded in reply.

"... and we both know how this ends."

In his mind, Steve was trying to think otherwise, even if it was hard. "Can we start?" he said instead.

"Eager to die, are we?" Thor smirked a little. "Well then, we must make ourselves comfortable."

This is it, Steve thought. The last moments of my third life stuck in a cabin in the middle of nowhere with a man made up of rage and murder intent, owning a hammer that only Steve could carry. Life has turned to the bizarre.

*.*.*

James was dying of worry. It has been a few hours since Steve's... ascent, and James was so confused about what was happening. All he can remember about everything was a storm swept up almost half the city, thankfully with minimal damage and most of it can be seen right in front of their apartment complex where something-was it a hammer?- destroyed the asphalt road. The impact was felt in almost whole of Brooklyn and even parts of Manhattan, shaking the infrastructures and creating fear in the hearts of residents.

The worst thing was the hammer took Steve.

James could not have been mistaken. It was not an illusion of his eyes, or some hallucination. The hammer from the skies flew, tagging a helpless Steve. And all James could do during that time was stare. He could have done something, maybe try to pull Steve down or be joining Steve. He should have not been alone! Who knows what's happening to him now? It was his responsibility to keep Steve safe and what did he do? He just goddamned stared.

Going to the police also crossed James' mind. But what could he say? That his younger brother was kidnapped by a flying hammer? The worst thing that could happen to him was to be put in a straitjacket and locked up in a mental institution. At best, no one would believe him and probably thrown out disgracefully from the prison. He had never felt so helpless, ever since his own parents died. Who could help him find his younger brother?

As he sat in his bed doing nothing but think and stare at the dilapidated ceiling, James was half-afraid he about to go really insane. It was so quiet in the complex since most of the inhabitants moved somewhere safer. James stayed because he had nowhere else to go. His relatives were back in Indiana, and he did not have the money to travel. But most of all, he was grabbing that little chance of Steve coming back. Somehow leaving for Indiana felt more plausible.

He heard footsteps in the hallway. Maybe some folks went back for their stuff, he thought and paid them no mind until he heard a lound crash. In his living room. James hastily ran out of the room, prepared to fight whoever those people were. Probably burglars, trying to take advantage of the inhabitant's absence.

"Hey! What the fu-"

James stood frozen in his steps. There were men in black suits filling up the shabby living room, and all of their sunglasses-covered eyes were locked on James. Before James could comment about burglars looking so fancy nowadays, he felt a hard hit behind his neck and all he saw afterwards was black.

*.*.*

Trying to engage in a normal conversation with your future murderer is the weirdest thing that ever happened to Steve. Aside from flying in Cursed Hammer Air First Class, that is. He never even boarded in an airplane before.

Both of them opted to sit on the floor, with Steve nearer to the magical hammer. For his own safety, no matter how little that is. Thor, on the other hand, was leaning his back on the bed. Even just sitting, he radiated power, authority and a tad bit of irritation, most of which were targeted on Steve. He just stared back, still telling himself that the burly man does not scare him that much. Thor crossed his arms to add up to the menacing air he was putting on, most probably trying to break Steve's already shaky composure.

The silence extends between the two of them, and the howling winds outside didn't even deter their little staring match. Steve could feel the tension building up even more in the midst of the cold silence. They were back where they started, where no one was backing down from the challenge. Instead of fists and feats of strength, they were battling for who will speak their mind first.

And Steve was already tired. "What do you want to know?" he sighed, relenting.

Steve saw the little smirk was back. Damn this man. "How did you acquire my hammer?" Thor asked in a deep accented voice.

"How did you lost it?" Steve could not help but ask.

"I asked the first question, didn't I?" the other blonde retorted.

Steve huffed. "I told you, it fell from the sky and destroyed most of my neighborhood." Thor opened his mouth, but before he could even deliver second question, Steve spoke up. "How did you lose it?"

"I was not finished yet mortal," the other man protested.

Steve raised his brow. "It's my turn," he retorted simply.

"How do you know it is your turn?" Thor continued. "I said I am not finished yet."

Steve scowled. "That is unfair, sir."

"How can that be unfair?" Thor was relentless. "I have the right to ask as many questions as I see fit."

Now Steve was irritated. "As I've said that is unfair. I thought you want to know about what happened to me and the hammer, and I want to know where you came from and why I am the only one who can carry your hammer. Can't this be a peaceful exchange of information?"

"You are the only one who can lift it for now," the bigger man corrected. "And I am a prince, a crown prince to be exact. You should have bowed down before my benevolence, but your insolence hindered you so. You were lucky I did not strike you right there and then if my hammer was in my hands."

Now this was out of the line. "Prince? Of what?"

"Asgard!" Thor exclaimed, like Steve was supposed to know about this. "The land of the Aesir!"

Steve was a getting a little bit more confused. "What is an... a-a-a...?" That was a tough word, and Steve never listened to grammar school way back. Steve was not even sure that word existed in the English language.

"Aesir," Thor clarified, a little miffed. "An aesir is- you are asking too many questions, mortal!"

The sudden outburst startled Steve, and made him a little wary. He was edging closer and closer to hammer. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

Another stretch of silence followed, and this time it seems neither of them wants to speak another word. Their conversation was going nowhere. All they do is argue and argue at every point. He could even talk to someone he had a fistfight with just a day before. If Bucky was here, he could have carried on with the conversation like nothing ever happened. Hell, Bucky could charm every girl at every bar they went through. His charm made him a famous amongst the women of Brooklyn, and his humor gained him many friends in every corner of the city. Sure he might be a little hot-headed and impatient, but he was a man who knows how to carry himself well. Steve could remember that one time he played with a police officer-

Wait, that's it!

"Hey," Steve began, clearing his throat, hesitance palpable through every word. "Uhm, do you mind if we play a little game?"

Thor raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Do you mind playing Twenty Questions?"

AN: So that's it. Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thank you for reading :)  
If you feel that this work is deserving for a favorite or even a comment, I am truly grateful. :D


	7. Chapter 6

AN: Hey I'm back! Sorry for the two week hiatus; t'was a rough two weeks, I tell you.  
But enough with me, and get on with the story!  
For all of those who reviewed, followed and gave an alert to this story, thank you very much! I'll never get tired of saying that. :D

Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

6:

"I do not understand still," Thor said after Steve explained the game multiple times. Steve wonders where did this man come from to not understand Twenty Questions. Then again, owning a flying hammer puts you in the category of "Out of this World". He knew he should ask that first. Later though when the other man already understands the whole "game". Somehow, the smaller man was a bit doubtful.

"It is simple," Steve reiterated. "You only have twenty questions to ask from me, and I also have twenty questions to ask of you. Each person has his own turn." Ain't that hard to understand, he thought. He might have tweaked the rules from the original version of the game broadcasted on the radio but the concept was similar. Bucky used it first, Steve was trying to replicate it now. He's just hoping he won't fail.

"Nay, not the game. I understood most of it, a duel of words," Thor snapped a little. "What I do not understand is why do we have to play it."

"It's all about knowing each another, you know," Steve replied immediately. "A game for strangers."

Steve wrapped his arms around himself to feebly counter the cold while Thor adjusted his position, seemingly not disturbed by the dropping temperature. There was hunger gnawing in Steve's stomach, but it was already common experience for Steve. Even back in Brooklyn, he and Bucky had to survive with water only for a few days when their ends won't meet. Steve already survived four attempted murders (three by a deranged man and one by the cursed hammer the deranged man presumably owned) for a day. Hunger was the least of his concerns.

"It is a peculiar tradition, mortal. I can tell you it does not exist amongst us," Thor mused. "The people you encounter every day are the people you already know most of your life. A foreigner can easily be noticed, and dealt with immediately."

Steve did not want to elaborate the "dealt with immediately" part. "Where are you from anyway?"

Thor smirked. "Is this the start of the tournament?" The man loves a challenge, it seems.

He cringed at the word. Steve never really liked tournaments and you cannot consider Twenty Questions a tournament right? "Sure, ain't a problem to me."

The bigger man cleared his throat, as if to deliver a State of the Nation Address. "I come from the distant land of Asgard."

Steve furrowed his brows. "Asgard? Where on earth is that?" Steve has never heard any country called Asgard, even with his meagre geography classes. Wherever it was, it was most probably magical.

"My turn, little man," Thor interceded. He did understand the concept. "What realm is this?"

"Realm?" Steve was a little unsure. Such a fancy word was never used in his neighborhood. "If you mean this place we are now, I am not sure. We could be in Canada or Alaska or even Santa's backyard."

If Steve was confused, Thor's was more evident. His blond eyebrows were already on their meeting place between the eyes. He kinda looked adorable, a little puppy lost in the wild. With those eyes bluer than his own, Steve could see himself befriending this man even with his poor social skills. Of course after their intense meeting, Thor was more like a wild beast. Steve let those thoughts slide.

"Answer my question, mortal," Thor grunted. Steve winced a little.

The smaller man tried to clear his throat. He really did need water right now. "I am not sure what you mean."

"Realm, this planet we are now," Thor replied, irritation rising.

Steve answered simply, "Earth."Time for the second set of questions, Steve noted in his head. Before the other man could open his mouth, Steve threw another question, "Are you human?"

Thor looked a little taken aback by the question. "Human? Do you mean, you are human?"

Now Steve was the one who was taken by surprise as he exclaimed, "Why of course I'm human!"

Thor still looked incredulously at him. "If you speak the truth, the humans I remember back then called this place Midgard... and they are far from the puny little creature you are."

Now Steve glared. Does he really have to insult his stature? "Hey, I may not be as big as you are but at least I know I can handle myself!"

"Without my hammer, you are nothing little man!" Thor snarled.

"I was not the one who was out cold on the floor minutes ago!" Steve snarled back. The man was pushing his limits, angering him. He still trying to reign his anger however. He made a promise to himself and to Bucky a long time ago that he will never land the first strike in any kind of fight. For as long that there's a chance of a civil way to end a disagreement, Steve always makes sure that no bloodshed will ever happen. Maybe it was because of his ill-health that he relied on that principle but he will never ever deviate from it.

Until now.

Something inside Steve just wants to grab the hammer and smash it to Thor's face. His hands were itching to wrap around the hilt and his anger was clouding his judgment. He knew he should not, but why was it he wanted Thor to be destroyed? What on earth is happening to him? He was not this, a rampaging bull free from the confines of his cage. He was Steven Rogers, and Steven Rogers never never gives in to anger.

This all started when he picked up that hammer, whatever its name is. Anger was not always the answer to every scuffle, so Steve strengthened his resolve.

"What's the deal with your hammer anyway?" Steve asked instead, changing the subject. He does not really want to turn this shaky peace into a blood bath, specifically not with his blood.

Thor looked at him again with that look that says: I don't trust this man, but whatever I can kill him anytime I want anyway. Smug bastard. Steve then mentally chided himself. He does not have the right to call anyone a bastard right, even if it was just inside his mind? Yes, it was right. No matter what happens, Steve has to remain civil inside and outside of his mind, even if a wrong look and the man right in front of him would have a murdering spree. Yes, he must be calm and collected. If one must give in to anger it would not be him. Better be dead than face his creator shamefully. "Could you repeat your inquiry?"

The man always sounded like someone fresh from a Shakespearean play, Steve noticed. All those fancy words made him a bit uncomfortable and intimidated. "I mean, what is the problem with your hammer?"

"It does not have any sort of mishap, mortal," Thor answered, a rumble in the midst of the storm. "But if it has, t'is probably due to your meddling hands."

Steve flushed, which was easy since the cold was downright palpable. "As I've said before, it's not my fault that it fell from the sky and right in front of me. At least it didn't smother and turned me into a pancake."

"I dearly wish it could have," Thor mumbled.

"I can hear you, y'know," Steven said with just the right amount of hate.

Silence prevailed all over them again as the winds continued to distribute the snow outside. The decreasing temperature made Steve's shivers visible, and he just that the other man would not notice. He would probably point it out and poke on his weakness all over again. Thor reminded him of all the bullies he faced rolled into a giant lion of a man. Yes, that was who Thor was, a lion ready to pounce anytime on mousy Steve. They were just past the second question and they were already at each other's throats. What had he gotten into?

*.*.*

Logan was getting angsty and suspicious. The house was getting quiet and that did not bode well for the little blond man. His oversensitive hearing could pick up traces of both men's voice inside the cabin, but he was too far away to have a detailed information. IF he damn well went nearer, there was a big probability that the other blond man would sense Logan's presence. He could the feel the warrior inside of that man, and he was dangerous.

As he leaned against the tree, Logan though of the reason why he was following them. What was the reason, really? Was it because of his thirst for human interaction. or was he was just itching for some action? He always felt that, because sometimes he would just hunt for the sake of the pleasure of gutting someone or something. He is not even hungry most of the time, just looking for a bit of blood, of thrill, of a single evidence that he was still functioning, that he was still moving. Just seeing the blood redden the once white snow made him feel... alive yet repulsed. There was some part of him that says he is monster for thinking such. He was still human, was he not? But the kind of life he was living pushed him to become like this. Isolation made him who he is today, and he was not even sure why he isolated himself.

His memories dredged up to him, of white vinyl surfaces washed with blood, of blurred human figures wandering inside his mind, calling him, reaching out for him. Logan closed his eyes as he tried to make everything clearer. Probably would give him a hint of why he doing this right now. Why damn why? Why was he fallowing these men? This could spell out his doom, yet he was here in the middle of the blizzard for hours now, waiting for any kind of reaction inside of the cabin. He heard some snarls and growls coming from the inside some time ago and he had to stop himself from launching inside. Some rational part of him wanted to go back to his cave and seclude himself all over again. This was a problem, but Logan never had a problem like this for far too long. His life in the snowy jungle revolved around waking up, surviving, sleeping and repeat. Maybe he was tired of that routine. Maybe he was just hungry, or going insane. What does insanity really mean anyway? Logan came this far already, and he will continue on.

Yes that was insanity.

As he inhaled the frosty air around him, he picked a scent, a dull dry putrid pungent smell. Something he had never smelled before. As far as he can clearly remember, he had been in this forest most of his life. Almost every kind of species in the forest was already encountered by him. It was not the smell of an elk, wolf, polar bear or any animal.

It was also very clear it was not human. Like the bigger man inside the cabin.

*.*.*

Bucky never had seen the dark for this long, even with his eyes not blindfolded. Hell, even the blackouts in LES Brooklyn could not compare to this. All he ever saw was pure pitch black.

After that unfortunate hit on his neck that made him lose consciousness, Bucky was not even sure how many hours had already past. Hell, it could have been New Year already, and Bucky would never had any idea about it. He tried voicing out his complaints but his mouth was filled with cloth that tasted like it was doused in sweat and gasoline. He could not feel anyone with him inside the room or wherever it was. It was so quiet he could hear his own thoughts. If there was dripping water somewhere Bucky would think he was in a mental facilty. Plus his hands and feet were tightly tied to the chair, and even with the slightest budge the ropes starts digging into his flesh.

What the hell was happening? Why was he kidnapped? Where did all those men come from? Here now comes Bucky's Bucket List of Unanswered Questions. His younger brother was missing, now he himself is kidnapped. What's the worse that could happen right?

To occupy himself from thinking about those thoughts, Bucky started counting the time by his breathing. One. Two. Three...

When he got past a hundred, he heard muffled voices. They came from the front, like a wall was separating them from him. Bucky made a groan through his mouth, and all of a sudden light was flooding in right into his vision. After being in the dark for long, it was painful to the point of blinding. As it was, he evaded his eyes.

"Glad to see you awake, son."

The voice was male; deep, gruff and commanding. A voice expecting to obeyed, without delay, without hesitation, without fear. It was a voice that was forged under storm and fire and came out so successfully. Suddenly, Bucky felt intimidated. When he opened his eyes to look at the man, his feeling heightened. He was old, old enough to be his father if he lived, with a face that faced a thousand battles. Stern, cold, yet not reprimanding, this man was the leader of the one who kidnapped him, Bucky deduced. He was wearing the standard uniform for military-

Military? What the fuck have I done to piss off the military?

"You're James Buchanan Barnes, am I correct?" the man asked. Bucky could only nod.

The man nodded. "Good. We need ta talk."

We are talking now, Bucky wanted to scream. Instead he rolled his eyes.

"Pardon the rough treatment," the man said as he stepped nearer to Bucky and started to unravel the cloth stuffed in his mouth. "We had ta make sure..."

To make sure what? Bucky was itching to ask, as he intently glared at the man's face.

"...that you are not the alien."

Alien? What does I have to do with aliens? Do they even exist? Are even real? Have you gone mad?

Bucky's face seemed to be a bit readable because the older man immediately replied. "I cannot explain everything ta you, young man, because it is classified information. At least for now. All you have to know is...The United States of America, aside from the wars in Europe , is most possibly threatened by an alien invasion. I know this may sound ridiculous to you, but how can you explain your brother's disappearance?"

Oh shit. The flying hammer that took Steve! Of course, that was not man-made. And wait how the hell did they know about his brother? Oh right, military intelligence.

"You're here, James Buchanan Barnes," the older man said as the cloth wrapped around his mouth finally unraveled. "Because you have information about what happened 10 hours ago in downtown Brooklyn. Am I right?"

"It isn't much, sir," Bucky replied as the man started to unknot his arms and legs. "But you will help me find my brother, right?"

The man nodded. "Absolutely, because we always help our own." Before Bucky could even comment about the statement, the other man added. "Welcome to the military, cadet."

*.*.*

Steve was just about to ask another question when an extremely loud rumble echoed from the outside.

"Wait, what was that?" the smaller blond man asked instead. When he looked at Thor however, he looked frozen, mortified. His blue eyes were as wide as saucers and for the first time ever, Steve saw the other man stunned beyond words.

"Hey!" Steve tried to get his attention. It was effective, for after a second he was wrapped around the bigger man's arms.

"Grab the hammer," Thor ordered, and Steven hastily reached out to it. Gripping the hammer with all of his might, Steve was not even sure he could lift it again. Thank God it did, but the static energy was still there, running through his skin...

Steve was getting frustrated. "Can you please just tell me what's happening?!"

Before Thor could open his mouth, another earth-shattering howl pierced their ears from the outside. It sounded... mechanical. Angry mechanical. Steve's heart was ready to pump out of his chest. "Thor, please tell me that's one of your friends," he whimpered against Thor's chest. Darn it, he actually whimpered! And why the hell was he being carried like a baby? He can walk, darn it!

"Unfortunately, nay," Thor replied grimly, and proceeded to jump off the nearest window just as everything in sight exploded and engulfed in flames.

AN: See you next time and thank you for reading! :D


	8. Chapter 7

AN: Thank you stopping by! :D Comments and reviews may not be responded, but they are appreciated. :D

Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel or any of its characters.

7:

All Steve could taste was smoke, if the gritty taste in his mouth can attest to that. He was planted face first to the rough snow, feeling the difference of temperature of the other man's arms. The hammer hummed still within his grip. He could actually feel the electricity again coursing through his veins, pushing him to do something. Anything. He braced his arms and pushed himself up and releasing himself from the other man's arms. Shaking his head to clear the brief dizziness, he made the mistake of looking back.

The place right behind him was supposed to be the cabin. Now it was ruins, wrapped fresh in flames. Blackened timber and all other kinds of debris went flying everywhere and the smoke was combining with the harsh winter winds. Thankfully the snow already stopped falling, for Steve became colder and more fearful than ever.

In the midst of the desolation, there was a figure far larger than the average human. far taller than his companion and would be murderer. Steve focused his eyes and the creature's body seemed to be covered with some sort of a heavy metal plating. Its head was also covered in metal armor with its face visible. However instead of a face, it was a flame. A really fiery bright flame, warming Steve up a little even paces away.

"Thor, what's that?" Steve asked again, eyeing the monstrosity with undisguised fear. His hammer-wielding right hand was trembling.

Thor muttered something under his breath but before Steve could even ask, he saw the monster coming towards them. Its footsteps were so audible Steve could feel the ground shaking with its intensity. The sense to run came to Steve just as the monster was at directly in front of him. Steve did not get the time to process what was going to happen to him when the monster lifted its arms. He felt himself being flung backwards just as the monster's fist smashed the ground where he was before.

"I already said it was a Destroyer and you still sat there waiting for your death," Thor growled right in his ear, making him a shiver a bit more than the snow around them.

Steven tried to retort, but then the Destroyer was coming to their direction. Fast. "Thor..."

"You could have let me kill you and everything would be far easier," the bigger man grunted before heaving Steve on his shoulders and started running.

"Put me down!" Steve protested. "I can walk damn it!"

"Nay!" Thor angrily replied while running on a full sprint. "I still do not have the information I need!"

"What does that thing do anyway?!" Steve asked, for there was no perfect timing on his part.

"It is a Destroyer," Thor repeated. "As the name suggests, it does not stop until it destroys its target. After all..."

"And..." Steve was half-afraid of the next sentence. After all, what could still go wrong right?

Thor's voice was ominous, an impending doom. "I am the target."

Steve just stared dumbfounded at Thor, who still continued running. The way he said it made Steve think it was normal for Thor to be hunted by a powerful armored creature. The man who wants to kill him is also running away from his killer, who is now chasing them both. Great. "Why on earth is he chasin' you?!"

"Is that your entry for the third round of questions?" the bigger man grunted as he ran faster.

Steve was stunned. "Really, that's your priority now?!"

"Of course," he could hear the other man grinning. "It is not too late to continue the tournament, aye?"

"We are being chased by a monster, Thor! Surely you can try concentrating on not letting us die!" The smaller blond man could feel his irritation and anger burning thorugh his system. It didn't help that the hammer was also humming in his hand, probably trying to push Steve to act and use its power. Well, Steve could be tempted and hit Thor's brawny head but then he will face the monter alone. He was so sure that he would be outran in no time and it will give Thor some sort of satisfaction over his unfortunate death. That's something Steve will not allow.

As he was still deciding on keeping everything relatively peaceful or start hitting the other man's head when the monster stopped running. Steve wanted to holler out in happiness until the Destroyer heaved its chest and released gigantic stream of fire. Thor probably sense the incoming danger as he changed his course and ran into the deeper parts of the snowy forest. Snow started to fall again which meant the tempearature was going to drop. Again. Combine the harsh temperature and the ongoing chase and Steve's hope was dwindling. It didn't help that the man who was carrying him was a total madman.

"Fine," Steve conceded, gritting his teeth. Too bad he has to be follow this man's insane ways or he was sure he's going to be unceremoniously dropped. "Just don't let us die!"

"Fear not mortal," Thor said, the grin still evident in his voice. "Your blood will be in my hands." He was enjoying this Steve could see, and it did not bode well for the smaller man at all. Steve ignored his comment, psuhing it to the back of his mind.

Thor continued to run faster and faster until Steven was sure they were already miles away from the monster. By that time, the snow was already falling heavily and obscuring the view and the strong winds and nightfall didn't help. The dark blond man decided to rest under one of the trees with numerous branches. He dropped Steve like a bag of potatoes and situated himself under the tree's poor shade.

Steve wanted to say that he was so sure they could be found here all over again. Additionally, Steve was sure the tree was not a proper habitat for a half-grown man of poor health. He could not argue though, for Thor already closed his eyes mumbled something about needing to lie down for a while. It seems he really needs his rest, for even someone who doesn't claim that he's human. Steve was half afraid if he would sleep under the tree by morning he was an icicle. His shirt and slacks were already in tatters and his shoes were in a far worse condition. He was not built for such a harsh climate, but what could Steve do? He was trapped in the middle of nowhere with no food or water to drink. All he had was a hammer and its crazy owner who probably did not feel any kind of hunger or cold.

The smaller man plopped beside Thor, immediately feeling the warmth emanating from the seemingly older man. Like the "heater" that Stark person was showing a few weeks ago on a carnival. He claimed he invented a device which can counteract the bleak New York winters. All the science mumbo-jumbo he was saying was Greek to Steve's ears, but he can't help comparing the device to this man right beside him. He was so... warm, something Steve never felt before. Laying the hammer between their bodies, Steve hoped the warmth was enough to keep him from turning into an ice cube.

*.*.*

When Steve woke up, he was not sure if it was still night, already day, or another day has already past. It was still too dark for Steve to see anything. It had been a long day and Steve could feel his bones cracking of too much use. He dropped his hand on the ground, feeling the thin ice under his fingertips. there was a part of him that wished everything that had happened yesterday was a dream, that he was back to Brooklyn living his normal life with Bucky. Well, as normal as it could get. But feeling of the snow dragged him back from his imaginings. It was real, he was now fighting for his life. It was cold but not as cold as Steve expected. He yawned and immediately felt something was different with him. Usually, during these cold times he was attacked by his asthma and all other diseases in his system. It was also a harder time for Bucky when Steve cannot work because he has to do extra hours for all of Steve's meds. After all the physical strain the day before, Steve was a bit surprised he didn't fall over yet.

It was too late to realize the heat he felt beside him was gone. That rose him real quick and breaking his sleepy state. He stared at the vacant part of tree with consternation. That damn man, he really left him in the wild! Filled with despair and fear, he tried looking for the next best thing which can help him survive. He felt the ground beneath his body, trying to find the hammer. He felt its familiar ridged handle and gentle hum, right there on the snow covered ground. Thor cannot carry it yet it seems.

It is impossible for Thor to just leave his hammer behind yet it was also plausible for him to leave Steve in the wild just to die. In his mind, Steve believed the latter. He wrapped his around himself, tucking the hammer in his chest. Steve sighed heavily, seeing his breath come out of his mouth. Now he must act and move before the monster catches up to him. Or worse, Thor comes back with a weapon he can actually carry. It was another possible explanation of his sudden disappearance. It doesn't matter anymore though. He must not focus on the darkness of the forest and all the other things that could be behind those trees.

"I see you have woken," came a rumbling voice. Steve's heartbeat stopped for a second before he realized it was just only Thor. As it was, he released a breath of relief. Of course, who could it be? "You missed my presence?"

He turned to the direction where the voice came from, and immediately recognized Thor's silhouette. Thor's jeering tone did not escape Steve as his eyes adjusted to the dark, Steve could see the bigger man was carrying firewood over his shoulder. He dropped it a few paces across Steve, right in the middle of the little clearing. "You're building a fire?"

Thor's look was condescending. "Yes, mortal. What could be the other use for wood in this forsaken land?"

To hit your head with, Steve wanted to respond but that little feeling of gratitude stopped him. After all, the other man gathered it for both of them, or so it seems.

"Now that I have gathered the firewood," Thor said as he sat comfortably on the ground. "It is your turn."

"My turn? What turn?" Steve's sleep-addled mind was refusing to work. Is he talking about that stupid game all over again.

"Aye, t'is your turn to gather food for us," Thor replied. "It is only fair."

Steve does not know what to say. He's going to gather food? "Like hunt?"

"Of course, do you know any other manner of gathering provision for both of us in this unvegetated area?" Thor stared at Steve like a king ordering his servant around. "After all I am quite hungry. A fat boar would be best. Now off you go!"

Steve was fuming on the inside, almost all of his instincts telling him to disobey this man just to spite him. However, his stomach was saying otherwise. His last meal yesterday was a couple of stale muffins and coffee and Steve was surprise he survived this long.

The smaller man's silence seemed to have been misunderstood by Thor. "What, brave little man? Afraid of the dark forest and the monsters lurking within?" Thor was smirking again.

Steve glared intensely at Thor, trying to reign his anger. It is not good to start the day with negative thoughts, his ma would've said. Picking up the hammer, he started to walk back into the woods. "Better be fast, little man. Show me what you can really do. And maybe after this, we can talk."

The urge to just throw the hammer back to Thor was gnawing inside Steven. Instead, he gripped the hammer tighter. He can do this, he must. He already came a long way and he would not fail this challenge. Steve will prove that man wrong. Steve is strong. He can do this, for him to survive.

*.*.*

Logan watched the little exchange before silently followed the younger man.

He already stopped asking himself why he was doing this. It seems that the answer would never come to him even if he continues thinking about it. The only clear thing to him was he would follow younger man, and that he did in silence.

It was entertaining to see him trying to execute a hunt without obvious prior knowledge. Even with the oversized hammer on his hand, he still looked like a kid. Acted like one, too. He making so much noise and was not careful with his steps. The tremble of his body might have been because of the cold, but it could also mean fear. The younger man was not equipped in this sort of environment with his tattered clothes and frail body. Logan was half-afraid he would not survive the night, but it was clear he was a fighter.

After a while, he saw the younger man sit under a barren birch with a somber face. It seems that his little fighter was giving up. Logan saw him grip the hammer tighter as tears fell from his eyes and openly sobbed. His sniffles were too audible in the scene. There was a sudden urge to approach him and just... no he won't . If he did, he would still not know what to do. And most probably the young man would run away screaming in fear. Logan would rather fight the fire breathing monster all over again.

Speaking of the creature, Logan never understood why it didn't care about him. His claws were ineffective against the metal armor for sure, but the monster paid him no mind. It just continued on walking to the cabin. It was clear the monster was a threat, yet not for him. The monster was a threat to the two men inside the cabin. All of his efforts were nothing, however because the monster released a giant ball of fire from its mouth and utterly destroyed the cabin, seemingly killing everyone inside.

Logan was stunned of what happened, but his instincts to hide kicked in when two figures were seen before the flames. He doesn't know why but he was thankful the man was still alive, which led him now here following him into the wilds. Slinking himself into the forest, he observed the younger man as he continued on crying to the really looked like a kid who could use a sandwich or two. And a whole roasted boar. What is a sandwich, anyway?

He was pulled out of his thoughts as the little man abruptly stood up and faced the sky. Tears was still falling from his face, but he his eyes were open. The hammer hung silently in the plam of his right hand like it belonged there, just waiting to be used. Even in his slight and seemingly weak form, he looked so proud. Strength emanated from him, not of body but of spirit. Someone who could face a thousand battles and cannot be worn down.

Logan was mesmerized. He stared still at the boy, captured at the image he made. Even if he stayed in this forest for a very long time, even after this little boy would be gone, Logan knew he would remember this image forever.

*.*.*

Steve can't believe it. He actually cried, sobbed like a little boy who just lost his mother. The last time he did that was when he actually lost his mother, a terrible point of weakness. Bucky was there however, his unyielding tower of strength. Without him and his parents, Steve would have actually been lost. Maybe even dead. Now, he was alone. Something he had never experienced for the past twenty-one years of his life. He could not count Thor as a companion; Steve was so sure that the bigger man would gut if he had the chance.

Right now, Steve just wanted to face that gutting and get over it than hunt animals in this totally uninhabited area. Not even a single bird was in sight. All the trees were barren and all other plants were dead. It was so damn unlucky everything unfortunate happened to him when it was a few days shy of the first snow of winter. Or possibly this land is entirely frozen all year round.

Many times, Steve had the urge to shout if any human was around but he was afraid the fire monster would discover his location. Then he would be really and truly dead but thankfully along with that poor excuse of a non-human as he claimed to be.

Thor.

That man deserves a special place in hell, God forgive him. How dare he to order Steve around like his personal little puppy? If not for hunger, Steve would have accepted a match to the death with no hesitation. With the hammer of course.

Steve glared at the hammer. It was making him think like a blood-crazed maniac again, not that much different than its original owner. Why did the hammer chose him anyway? Why not go back to Thor and leave him alone? He knew he did not have the answers, but he knew the one man who has. Better find something to eat then before Thor's mood shifts and abruptly berserks. He's quite... calm, Steve noticed it now. Maybe because he was also tired of everything.

Steve was pulled out from his musings when he spotted an antelope within his line of sight. He immediately ran to where the antelope was all the while thinking about how lucky he was. He knew he must not let this go, all for his survival.

The blond man was anticipating a run, but he was surprised when the antelope stopped dead in the middle of its tracks. When he looked closer, he saw slash marks on both of its hind legs. Fresh blood ran in rivulets to the ground, imbibing the snow with red. Another wild animal might be in the vicinity, and it is most probably a bear or a wolf. Steve refused to think of some other creature for it messes with his brain, leaves his imagination running wild and his heartbeat steadily increasing. He looked around warily, straining his ears for any kind of sound. All he heard however were the rustles of the branche as they danced with the freezing wind.

Every fibre of Steve's being was screaming to run but he must not let the blessing past. He pulled the antelope using its forelegs and started to tread back to the little camp. Being afraid was out of the question. He faced a madman and a monster already; what more could God give?

*.*.*

When Steve arrived to the little camp, Thor warming himself beside a campfire. Looking up, he saw Steve and a bit of surprise flashed on his features as he saw was Steve was pulling. Cocking an eyebrow, he approached Steve and decided to observe what Steve got. Steve closed jhis eyes, very sue that Thor would be pissed. Again.

"You dare let me eat carrion?!" As per usual, Thor was evidently fuming when Steve arrived. Why was Steve even surprised?

"I told you Thor, it's still alive when I carried it back to you," Steve argued, trying to sound calm. To avoid angering himself to homicidal, he decided to drop the hammer to the ground just in case.

"Pulled," Thor corrected, snarling. "And do not discard of Mjolnir like he is nothing!"

"Well, I'm sorry!" Steve was getting exasperated. "Besides, that's the only animal I could find!"

Thor snorted. "You can simply say you are too weak and inexperienced to even hunt for game. Such a disgrace for someone who was proven worthy by the Mjolnir."

"Well that's rich coming from the man who can't even lift it," Steve countered quietly before he could stop his mouth. There was an eerie silence before Steve found himself on a tree trunk with a very angry blond choking him, heaps of snow falling on both of them.

"My patience is wearing off mortal," Thor growled dangerously close. Puffs of cold air were coming out of his mouth from every angry have of breath. "Most Asgardians do not even want to see me in ire, but you still-"

However, Steve was too already tired of everything. "You don't have any patience at all, Thor," Steve snapped, interrupting the other man's tirade. "However, I have to admit I-" he panted "- still need you to survive on this place, and you need me to carry your hammer. So why don't you put me down and tell me what on earth is wrong with your hammer, huh?" It was getting harder for Steve to breathe as wheezed out the last of his statement.

Bewildered, Thor lessened his hold on Steve's neck enough for the smaller man to touch the ground again. "So you admit to yourself that you are truly weak, right in front of me?"

"Even the strongest of men need some help sometimes," Steve coughed, admitting it. After all, it was true; Steve did not kill the animal. It was just by chance that some other animal injured it before running to Steve's direction. He might not know what the other animal is, it could have been an additional threat to them. Sighing, Steve asked, "So what's wrong with your hammer anyway?"

Thor slow dropped himself to the ground, beside the hammer. His fingers traced the ridged handle, but a jolt of electricity struck him and he pulled back immediately. Flinching a little, he started tell his tale...


	9. Chapter 8

8:

"As I have said before, I hail from the realm of Asgard," Thor started to say as he moved closer to the fire. Steve followed suit to counteract the ever present cold. "A realm far beyond this place."

"Where is it?" Steve asked out of curiosity. He really can't believe that there was somewhere far beyond Earth. Even the idea of it seems absurd, too much for Steve's mind. Back in the day when his family was still alive, his parents always made sure that they were always present in the Sunday mass. During those he could not remember anything that the Bible said about other worlds and other beings if you do not count all the angels and demons. Everything he was about to know now was going to wreck his brain, he was sure of it.

"I can show you," Thor replied after picking up a stray log, "after we finish preparing what you caught."

Steve could hear the stress on the last word, making him flinch and blush. "Alright, I didn't hunt it. Not in your way of thinking that is. It practically fell on my hands."

"It fell from the heavens?" Thor's tone was hopeful, like redemption was coming for him. His whole demeanour changed and he looked like a kid waiting for Christmas. Or anyone waiting for something they have been waiting for all their life.

Steve shook his head and hid a little smile. This man's reasoning was a bit odd, he could see that. Why would he wait for something to fall from the sky? "No, I already saw it bleeding to death. We just pulled him out of his misery."

Thor's face fell, replaced by the usual brooding look. "Oh."

They continued on preparing the poor animal. Using a stone fashioned into a very crude knife, Thor carefully cut the animal open and removed all the innards. Everything the other man does was calculated, seemingly knowing exactly what to do next. It was a very different from the rather brutish way he treated Steve. Maybe when Thor cuts him open, he wouldn't be that careful. Thor then heaved the animal to a nearby stream. He ordered (yeah, that was the term) Steve to stay and watch over the fire and the hammer like either would run away. Steve would if he wasn't sensible. When Thor returned the animal was already skewered into a large log. Steve found it rather gruesome and wanted to vomit but he held it in. It was still food, Steve reassured himself.

"The stream appears to be clean; you can drink from there if you wish," Thor said as he grilled the antelope on the open fire. "I have finished quenching my thirst."

Steve nodded unenthusiastically as he stood up and started to tread down to the stream. The way was surprisingly easy as Steve followed Thor's footprints, considering they were in the wild. Snow and more dead trees greeted him to the stream, but the stream itself was a welcomed sight. It was crystal clear, untainted by civilization. He had never seen anything like it, never stepping out of Brooklyn before. It was far different from the Atlantic and the nearby rivers back in the city. The stream might be small, but Steve would love to wade down there if it wasn't so cold. If Bucky was here, he would've jumped into the river first and pull Steve in. Then they would have so much fun they would forget all that happened to them. Sadly that was not the case. Steve washed his hands first before getting some to his mouth. He found it unsurprisingly cold and refreshing and Steve wished this was located back home. Even the water back there tasted like sewage from questionable sources. He washed himself a little and winced at the cold before trudging back to the clearing.

When he got back, the antelope was slowly being twirled around the fire by the bigger man. Thor was gazing at it so intently Steve was sure it would have been cooked by his gaze alone. There was the urge in Steve to surprise the man. But it would probably lead to manslaughter so Steve let the idea go. It would've been useless though if he continued on with his plan as Thor called out without even looking back, "Why are you still standing there?"

Steve recovered immediately and walked gingerly to Thor's side. Before realizing he was too much of lap dog when he followed Thor's instructions, he appreciated the warmth the man emanated. It was one of the reasons why Steve survived the night and he could not help but be thankful. He would not voice out his gratitude however because he does not want the other man to know Steve was feeling indebted to him. It would just boost his ego.

"So do you want to start?" Steve inquired as he sat down in the snow.

"Can you repeat your inquiry?" Thor asked back, still looking at what he was grilling.

Steve prepared his brain for large chunks of information he's not sure if he can handle. "Where's Asgard?"

Thor immediately handed him the antelope with all of its searing bloody horror on a stick. In surprise, Steve very nearly dropped it to the flames. The whole ensemble was as tall as he was and far heavier. Steve found it all ridiculous; he could carry an oversized hammer from nowhere but grilling an animal would probably break his hands. The other man looked like he wanted to say something but a smirk replaced his words. Darn that man.

Picking up a burning twig, he stuffed it to the snow as his deep growly voice started to fill the bonfire-warmed air. "If your statements ring true mortal, that we are in Midgard, then I came a long way down from the heavens." Steve looked at him skeptically, but the other man was busy etching something on the snow-covered ground. After what seemed like forever but in reality was just a few minutes, Thor was done and Steve's hands were about to fall off. On the ground was an assortment of circles, interconnected by weaves and lines. A solitary circle was at the top, followed by three at the middle and another three at the bottom. There was winding line from the top circle to middle one and the others were just connected by other random lines. Or so Steve thought.

"There," Thor proclaimed, pointing at the topmost circle. "T'is where my home lies."

Thor's answer was so simple Steve had trouble understanding any of it. "What?"

"I have already told you-" Thor started to justify, but was immediately interrupted by Steve.

Steve's condescending look could say it all, but he chose to say his thoughts out loud. "Can you please elaborate? You're drawing doesn't make sense unless you explain it to me."

Thor frowned but relented immediately. Sighing, starts to say in his rumbling voice,"Asgard, the land of my people. It is in another realm, far from this place." He looked up to the sky, and Steve followed suit. Slate, grays and blues mixed-up together forming an eerily never ending blanket for the world. Steve saw nothing but that, but he had a feeling Thor can see far beyond. He took his stare back at Thor's face. If there was really some sort of glisten in the bigger man's eyes, Steve did not comment.

"I won't believe you until I see it with my very eyes," Steve decided, looking back up the sky. "I mean how would you make me believe that you are something else? Anything here doesn't make sense at all." One might think that the hammer was proof enough, but to Steve it wasn't. He wants facts, he wants the truth. Maybe then he would have the reason why he was fighting for his life in this stupid snowy jungle, and somehow Steve knew it would give him some sort of peace and security. He refuses to die without good reason.

"You can ask another question," Thor said a little bit too nonchalantly for Steve. He let it pass though and threw another question.

"Why are you here?"

Thor visibly tenses up, his jaw ticking. He still didn't look at Steve though, but his demeanour changed. Thor was way more guarded, with a bit of frustration and anger mixing in with the prior sadness. This time he abruptly turned his face to Steve's direction, at the same time Steve did exactly the same. Two sets of blue eyes met with less wariness and antagonism, but the uncomfortability was still very palpable. Steve didn't back down from the gaze though. Apparently so did Thor.

"I fell."

Two words fell out of Thor's mouth, breathing it to the air. All the frustration Steve saw there from before was replaced by complete misery. It was undeniably the most sincere thing that came out of the man, aside from the death threats, that is. However, it still didn't make sense. Steve's look already said it all, and Thor sighed.

"You and your never-ending quest for details and answers," he muttered, almost unintelligible. Steve almost had a retort until Thor continued with a comparably louder voice. "It doesn't matter."

Steve has all the curiosity perhaps, but Thor on the other hand surrounded himself by walls. All the clipped answers made Steve want to ask more. He had never loved mysteries, but it doesn't waver him from finding the truth. All he wants are answers, is it that hard to give it to him?

Frustrated, Steve exploded. "Okay, let me get the information you gave me straight. You are Thor, a crown prince of some land you claim to be worlds away, who owns a hammer he can't barely lift, who has some murderous tendencies and the penchant for destroying stuff. And oh, hunted by some monster I can't even recognize. If it wasn't for the hammer and the monster, I would actually believe that you are just some madman in weird clothing lost in the woods and trying to find your way back to th city. A lot of what you're saying doesn't make sense and in the face of imminent death, you still harbor some grudge against me. So please, before we both die can't you tell why all of this is happening to the both of us?!"

Thor seemed to be unperturbed by his outburst. Instead he rumbled, " I do not care if your poor human mind cannot fathom thine greatness. If you want to leave, you are free to go. I will not give you the answers you need."

Steve glared at the man. "Fine. I am done with you." With all of his might, he dropped the carcass to the ground, almost colliding with the fire until Thor caught it. Steve instantly grabbed the hammer and added, "But I will take this with me."

It was Thor's turn to be angry. "Nay, you will not!"

"Then give me what I want!" Steve didn't want to resort to blackmail, but this man's responses made him desperate. A part of his brain was saying that the answers are not as important as breathing, but the more dominating part was screaming for answers. His curiosity was already piqued, there was more to this man than he lets on.

"I gave you answers!" Thor shouted.

"They weren't enough!" Steve shouted back.

An astounding roar was heard from a distance, followed by a pillar of fire cutting through the sky. Steve didn't have the sense to even move for fear was already creeping inside his system. Thor was quick though, he pulled Steve on his shoulder and ran back to the darkness of the forest.

Twigs and branches hit Steve everywhere, leaving rough tastes in his mouth. Spewing out a little, he screamed, "Thor please tell me already what is it that's chasing us!"

"It's a Destroyer!" Thor repeated.

"That's it?!"

"You asked what is the name of the monster; I gave it to you!"

Steve let out a grunt of irritation. Thor was a very simple man it seems, even with the regal air and accented English. And it was enough to set Steve off. He really wants to bash this man's head with a hammer-

Wait, the hammer!

"Thor?!" Steve asked, a little afraid. "Where's the hammer?"

Thor snarl so fierce it was animalistic. "You useless mor-"

"Fine, I am so useless but can we please get back there now?!" Before Steve could finish his whole sentence, Thor was already running back to the direction they came from. If Steve could not believe this was out of the ordinary, now was the time he should. After spending the whole yesterday running fighting and even suffering a hefty blow to the head, Thor could still run like an athlete. Even faster than most athletes.

Steve could not help but have a grudging admiration for this man. He might have a short temper and mind of a simpleton, but his physical prowess was far more advanced than any human he had met before. There was no denying it now: Thor was something else. They reached the clearing in no time. Thor dropped him again unceremoniously. Steve wanted to lash out all over again, but fear was etched deeply into Thor's face. Thankfully, Steve still had the courage to look back.

The bonfire was still in its glory, the wood audibly crackling as the fire consumed it. There on the middle lay a carcass, also getting burned by the hungry flames. Before it stood an image Steve would not get out of his nightmares for years, if he lives that long.

It was the Destroyer, holding Thor's hammer.


	10. Chapter 9

AN: Hey! Here's another chapter for all of you! :D I know it has been a long while since I have updated. School is being a b… not so good to me. They give me so much typing activities there was even a time I dreaded to look at my own laptop. Yeah, academic research does make a good writer's block, add to the fact that Destiel and DarGar had been trying to distract me from my ThunderShield muse (and they were really successful *sighs*). I know this is a short chapter but I will try -the operative word- to update as much as possible within the weeks to come. Thank you so much for giving me your time in reading this fic.

Special thanks to:

EpicKiya, Kai Chen, Naru-chan-Lover, mangaloverize, and ninjaeris13 for the faves.

themyrrh, thank you so much for the comments. They made my day! :D and the unnamed guest and mangaloverize again. Thank you!

The ones who gave their alerts, thank you as well. :)

9:

The utter fear in Thor's eyes was enough for Steve to wave the white flag. He saw anger and frustration but his is what Steve would call a terror. If the big blond man was already this afraid, what of Steve? He refused to let his fear speak to him though, but denying the fear's existence was futile. Steve wonders if this really is the end.

"Thor, why-"

Thor's quiet voice was a voice resigned to his fate, flowing from a sarcophagus he was already lying in. "My father."

Steve knew he already asked this for a million times, but still he did. Maybe for one last time. "What?"

"My father," Thor gulped. "I believe this is some sort of a test."

Oh now he was singing like a canary. If this was non-life threatening situation, Steve would have said something so vile his mother would have washed his mouth with soap. After all this time, Thor chose to talk when it was almost too late. "What kind of test is this?"

"I am not certain," Thor gritted his teeth. "I woke up finding myself lost in this wilderness without much explanation as well. It was the eve of my name day, and I always knew there would be some sort of a test. I knew this involved my hammer, my inheritance. I never would have thought that it would come to this." He looked at Steve. "I believe the test involves the annihilation of this creature. However, without my hammer it would be a futile effort. You would die, and I would fail."

Steve met those blue eyes with his own, and never had he so much hopelessness. The fear he refused to acknowledge was already invading his system in heaps, shaking him to the core and froze him more than the frigid winter ever could. The information Thor gave was one of those Steve really needed the most, though he was not sure it was worth knowing.

Then he remembered Bucky. He had to live for Bucky. If he dies here in the middle of nowhere, what would Bucky think? That Steve was a coward? That he simply gave up? That he never put up a fight? If Bucky was here, he would push Steve even though it was against his own will. He would want Steve to fight. He knows and the idea that someone believes in him makes Steve strengthen his own resolve.

The smaller blond man stood up, forcing his legs not to sway. He knew this could be the end, but Steve refused to give up the fight. "We are still alive aren't we?"

Steve's statement rattled Thor a bit. "I do not understand."

"I do not want to give up, not while we still have the chance to live. After almost two days' worth of suffering with you, because of you, and I would just simply give it all up?" Steve was already gritting his own teeth. "No, I refuse to believe that."

Thor stared at him, dumbfounded. "Are you implying..."

"Yes, we should try and take this creature down." Hearing those words from his own mouth was something Steve could not actually believe. The conviction coming out from his mouth was too foreign, but Steve knew he could not back down. Never. Not until he knows he can still do something, anything.

"You are out of your mind, mortal," Thor growled. "Without the hammer, you are nothing!"

Steve considered the thought as he continued to his staring showdown with the monster. Unlike their first encounter the monster was unmoving, almost calm. Flames were still raging on what seems to be its mouth and a metallic stench permeated with the burnt timber in the air. The hammer was still in its hand and Steve could see its gentle thrum.

Another thing entered Steve's mind. "Does this thing have a... weakness or anything?"

Thor huffed. "All I knew was it could only be defeated by a great power, by brute strength alone."

Steve caught the words left unsaid. The hammer was the only key to defeat the monster. Their one and only chance however, is in the hands of the enemy. What should they do?

*.*.*

Logan saw it all, and it was the first time in his long life that he felt an undeniable fear. Although he would never admit it out loud, he was scared for the fate of the younger blonde man. There was great part of him that wanted to join the fray, but at the same time he wants to just stay in the shadows and wait for the right time.

After the events at the already ruined cabin, Logan tried his best to steer the monster away from the direction of the two other men. However, the monster seems to not care about him. Logan continued to attack the monster even though his claws were proven ineffective against its armour. Logan didn't know what it is but all he knew it was a threat, for the two men and him at the same time. He followed the creature for a full night, making all the effort to distract the monster and lose its path. He tried everything, from snarling to growling to downright full attacking but nothing fazes the monster. It continues on walking, albeit slow but calculated like it already knew where the other two men are. It was just taking its time, the fire in its mouth still burning through the cold night.

Logan never felt so exhausted in his life. The journey took most of his energy for he followed the monster right where it is now. Logan stayed under the shadow of the trees, waiting for the perfect time to pounce. His position made him see the situation all too, the smaller blonde man on the ground with the other blond man standing tall. The monster was right in front of the bonfire, a hammer in its hand, looking so calm and still.

Wisps of cold air came out of his mouth as he panted quietly. The exhaustion was catching up to him and it was not a good sign. He kept his claws ready though because he knew that he would enter a seemingly unescapable battle any moment now.

The moment he was waiting for came when he heard the loud cracks of burning timber, as if something colossal has stepped on it hard. When he looked back to the clearing, he saw the monster advancing to the pair. Logan knew he has to move soon, or else those men will die.

*.*.*

The monster made it first move, and all Steve could do was hold his breath.

As the monster stepped on the fire, Steve thought about everything that had happened for the last two days like there were flashes right before his very eyes. From the moment when the hammer lifted him to the sky right up to this. How many times has he almost died again? Steve lost count and this might be the last time he could think.

There was an insane part of him that refused to give up, yes, but that part was getting clouded by all of his other thoughts. He can't think clearly on what to do. Or can he really do anything? Without the hammer he was truly useless, as Thor would have said. He might be able to lift that thing, but now that it was out of his reach he was back into being the simple scrawny little man from Brooklyn. Not even all the bullies back home combined can even compare to what will fall on him right now.

"Thor, what should we do now?" Steve asked quietly, not even taking his eyes off the monster. The other man stayed silent.

The monster made another step, this time it was already out of the fire. It was even a more frightening sight, and Steve could not help but pray inside his mind. Taking a deep breath, he whispered and closed his eyes, "Dear God, lend me the strength to survive."

When he opened his eyes again, a flying hammer was already flying towards the man beside him. It hit Thor so hard he crashed to the trees, destroying much of them in the process. Before Steve could even react, the hammer was already flying back to the monster. It all happened so fast; all could Steve do was gape and stare. The fear he was holding back now cascaded in heaps. He wanted to make sure the other man was alright, but he could not make another move because the monster was already staring at him. He could not even look back just to see if the other man was still breathing.

Steve didn't know how long time has passed, but it seems that Thor was not getting up yet. _Come on, Thor. Do something! I don't think that killed you!_ He knows he doesn't like the crazy blond man, but he refused to see him die. Thor was a bit uppity and spiteful, sure, but that was horrible thing to happen to anyone.

The smaller blond man was a little thankful when he heard a few faint grunts from behind. But his little bit of gratitude was eclipse by the fiery stares of the monster, which was currently focused on him. A bellow of fire was blowing to hiss direction and Steve dodged as fast as he could. The bottom part of his pants were unlucky though, for they were singed by the fire. Steve was not sure if he was also injured but he only knew one thing: he had to get to Thor.

Fire streams were almost easy to dodge as the monster released them one by one, as Steve was using his stature as an advantage. Ducking just a little bit lower than his normal height proved to be effective as he ran back to Thor. He panted so hard he was sure he would pass out any minute, but Steve's mind refused to succumb. He had to get to Thor.

Thor apparently crashed into a pine, with snow blanketing his whole body. The hammer was stuck on his stomach and he was clearly grimacing in pain. Blood was freely flowing from his head, matting his short beard. His blue eyes were wide open though with determination and anger burning through. As Steve was nearing the other man's position, he could not understand why those blue eyes were replaced by fear again.

A searing pain enveloped his back and Steve screamed in pain before crashing right beside Thor. It seems that he ran out of luck. He could feel the burn on his back ravaging his skin and muscle. Lethargy was slowly seeping in as the pain was overwhelming every sense that he had.

No, he can't give up now. That was his mantra, his last repeat of the mantra. If he must die, then the other man should live.

Before the blackness claimed him, he blindly gripped the hammer's hilt with his last strength and let Thor go free.

The last sounds he heard were a howl and a battle cry.


End file.
